The Horse Mistress: Princess of Belza
by taranis808
Summary: Tortall is known for it’s finest Knights and especially for successes such as Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan and the Lioness. After ten girls have been rejected from training, has Tortall grown skeptic of accepting women as knights once more?
1. Vieva

Ten-years-old and no one had believed such a child could hold so much anger. Her fists curled as she stood over the young boy, her cousin, another prince before kicking him fiercely in the stomach. Princess Zenevieva walked calmly towards the shaking filly, her palms upraised to show that the horse had nothing to fear. The scar on the filly's right hind leg was bleeding profusely. She turned to glare as her cousin crawled away, the whip he used to hurt the horse still clutched in his hands. She almost went after him then, until she felt a hard hand take her by the shoulder. She didn't need to look up to know who had come to stop her from inflicting further damage on her cowardly cousin. Her guard, Lord Lenato, a six-foot-five warrior with dark skin, held her with the hand that bore the long and winding dragon tattoo of the Latin lords.

"Vieva," Lord Lenato's voice was curt even when he used her nickname, "Leave Ambrosio alone. You will do no good with this report before you leave tomorrow."

Vieva growled slightly, darting away from Lenato's grip and heading towards the filly. "He hurt my horse."

"He is jealous," Lord Lenato replied with a sigh. He had repeated it almost twelve times to her father, King Valerion when he first mentioned the idea of giving his daughter a new horse in congratulations for being allowed to begin training at the famous Tortall academy for knights. Lord Lenato did not like the idea of sending the heir to the throne of Belva to a foreign land to seek training to become a knight to another throne. To add to royal insult, Lenato did not want the girl needing to earn her ranks by acquiring different levels before her final examination which from what he heard was worse then any Belza torture. It was much too low a manner by which Lenato wanted his charge to discover the ways of fighting. He had trained her well enough in sword fighting, archery and combat to feel confidence in becoming her mentor as well as her highest ranking guard. However, King Valerion was fond of the King of Tortall, Jonathan of Conte, and believed that somehow his daughter would be receiving a much better training there.

Belza's politics were strong and firm as well as peaceful, however, the coming of the immortals had disrupted this kingdom's calm. King Valerion would be announcing his daughter as the successor to his throne on her eighteenth birthday. With that announcement would surely come threats to her life that both the King and the Queen Uriah would be unwilling to allow; King Valerion had never felt angry towards his wife for being unable to bear him a son. She was a northern foreigner whose beauty was encompassing. Everything about her was opposite to that of the king's dark and sharp features. She held a glow, her eyes sparkled with kindness which only added to her sweeping light brown hair. Her daughter was an exact replica of both her father and mother's best features. She was still chubby, her face and body soft but strong. Her skin held her mother's glow but could not escape her father's tanned skin. Her eyes were that of honey as well as her hair that changed according to her mood and the reflection of the sun. Some days it looked as dark as her father's, others, as soft as her mothers.

The kingdom was beautiful, but the fear of war called on alliances, the strongest that of Tortall. Vieva walked back calmly, her filly, Sabine, following closely, the whites of her eyes darting every which way in search of Ambrosio. Vieva stared at her horse, shaking her head she landed a loud slap to her neck, "Stop it Sabine, you are strong. Don't go and follow his footsteps and turn into a coward," the horse jerked, holding her head up. The filly's nostril's flared as if in defiance. Vieva smiled, nodding her approval. "There, next time he tries to ride you, you give him a good kick in the gut. None of this meekness. It doesn't suit you."

Lord Lenato fought the urge to smile as he walked past the stable-master, Portio. The stable-master walked quickly over to the princess, taking the rein's from her. "Ambrosio, that's a bad child," he said irritably once he saw the wound he would have to nurse. "Run along now Vieva, your father is calling for you. I must mend this if you decide to take Sabine along with you. I suggest for tomorrow's journey you take Wafa," he was pointing at the strong dark mare. Most of the herd here was black, both Vieva's mares were no exception. "Sabine can follow, I'll give you the ointment to mend the cracked wound. You can continue her training when you are at the King's stable in Tortall. They have fine animals there, but none will be as fine as yours."

Vieva fought the urge then to shed tears when she realized she was to be leaving the rest of her most trusted companions. Dark velvet noses pushed their heads out, leaning their chins on their stalls. Their dark eyes blinked at her, all looking as if they were questioning her, asking if she had to leave. The famous Belza horses, especially the best bred that lived on the royal grounds held an attachment to the Princess. She could not speak to them with words, but her mere presence was famous for calming the wildest of stallions. She spent every morning in exercise with both the domesticated and wild herds. Lord Lenato followed her on his own gelding, the famous battle horse Mercucio on her early morning runs. She had long legs that he suspected would only grow longer in order to catch up with the young fillies and colts that raced with her.

Vieva finally turned away from them, thinking optimistically she would at least have Wafa and Sabine by her side as well as Lord Lenato to keep her company and stop her from being home-sick. She picked up her skirts and jogged quickly towards the palace. She had mixed feelings about becoming a page of Tortall, wondering at first why she wasn't allowed to just train with Lenato. Her father had explained that she was to become a knight – again, the prospect excited her. She had heard of the Lioness, Alanna, and Keladry of Mindelan. Her father and mother, as well as visiting nobles had told her long stories about their successes. She wanted to be strong like them and hoped that she would be accepted, unlike the rumored ten girls who, with the new rule of Tortall which allowed more women to enter knighthood, failed miserably. Only one girl had made it to Squire after Keladry – but she was killed as soon as she stepped foot in her first battle.

Vieva was uncertain if she liked the sound of the women that she would be meeting in Tortall, hearing of their reddish hair, their height and their bulky demeanor. Vieva looked down at herself, she lived in a culture where most women were sleek and short. She was sleek, but she was tall for her age thanks to her Germanic mother. She made a face when one noble had joked about her being as tall as the Knight Keladry. She didn't want to keep growing, she was still a girl, after all. "Father," she finally called, stepping into his study. "Will I have to cut my hair?"

King Valerion looked up at his daughter from the papers he was sifting through. He tried to look at his daughter with seriousness, but the crinkling of the corner's of his eyes gave him away. "Vieva," he said, patting his lap for her to climb on. "You will not do anything you don't want to with your appearance; however, I suggest you listen to your training master and to all the teachers and most of all, the king when you are there."

"Must I leave?" She asked then, more timidly then she had ever. Vieva only grew quiet around the horses and her father. Her boisterous and bossy charm was only experienced by those she was not as comfortable with. She had a fiery temper and a tough mouth to clasp in hopes of silence.

"Yes," he replied, stroking her hair. "You must remember what duty is to your country, Zenevieva of Belza. It is your priority. You must serve, protect and love your kinsmen and always remember who you are. You have an amiable and fiery spirit – allow that to drive you and not hinder you in your endeavors. Don't ever let anyone pull you down, even in the thickest and most painful of trials, Vieva."

Her father's words echoed in her mind as her horse, Wafa, neared the palace of Tortall. They had been traveling on horseback for the past ten days. It was exhausting but Vieva felt only most at ease on the back of a horse. Her dark mare glanced momentarily in the direction of the young filly that hadn't lost her energy, gawking curiously at the sights around her. Wafa snorted in what to Vieva looked like a scolding, a soft smile came to her lips then, "Sabine, you've irritated Wafa enough. Behave, you still have a wound to mend. Bouncing around and trying to chase mad rabbits won't do you any good, and it's not polite to stare."

Sabine's lips quivered, sending out an annoyed breath of air as she drooped her head in response.

Lord Lenato slowed his horse to a halt, dismounting in one swift movement. Vieva followed suite, staring up at the palace that attempted to intimidate her. It was more ornate and grand then their own palace, but it looked lovely in Vieva's eyes. She grinned then, her worry about home-sickness suddenly disappearing as she strode forwards, rushing past Lenato. Lenato stared at the two mares that his charge had so quickly run away from, shaking his head, he barked for one of their man-servants to take the horse's reins. Vieva never left her horses unawares and quickly let out a shout to remind her of her lack of proper manners, "Vieva!"

The roar caused the entire front of the hall to shake. Vieva cringed and slid to a halt, huffing before running back, "Lena—oh." She saw her two mares blinking up at her in curiosity. She sighed, trudging back down the steps, her mouth in a tight line. "I'm sorry. I won't run off without making sure that Sabine and Wafa are properly in their stables."

Lord Lenato nodded his head, walking towards the palace as he left Vieva to go tend to the horses. She glanced at their man-servant, Portio's son, Benecio. "Must he always cur my fun?"

Benecio smirked, shaking his head. "Your highness, you forgot about your horses in your excitement. You needed not insult-"

"You're going to lecture me too?" She stared at him, her mouth agape.

Benecio chuckled, "This is your last time, Vieva, run along."

Vieva grinned. She gave both her horses a kiss, "I will tell you about everything inside, I promise!" Vieva ran into the palace as she had earlier, running down the hall to go find where she was to be staying. She stopped suddenly as a group of men were taking most of the space in the hall, her hood fell as she gaped at the knights who were talking in low hushed tones. Gareth the Younger stopped talking to Nealan of Queenscove as he spotted the flighty youth, "Hello Princess," It was Neal's turn to look at her.

A loud gruff sound came from behind the crowd of Knights. To Vieva's surprise, the annoyed noise came from the newly knighted Darian of Kacela. He was tall, dark and incredibly handsome for his age of twenty. Each knight that stood before her now had a tale to them. Vieva blinked in awe and curtsied quickly before opening her mouth. "You're all those great Knights of King Jonathan, aren't you?"

Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak raised an eyebrow in question to her boldness, "Yes Princess, that we are."

Lord Lenato had found his charge with Lord Wyldon in tow. His face grim, quickly scooped up the princess in his arms, wagging a finger at her, "Zenevieva! You do not address such respected men with such terse language. You must learn to obey and be disciplined, this is what-"

Vieva was embarrassed; she began squirming to get out of his embrace. "Lenato! I cannot breath! Put me down!"

The little princess caused most of the knights to laugh. Sir Ayden and Lord Wyldon did not find it as amusing.

"You should not be picking her up, Lenato," Lord Wyldon reminded him, "She will need to stop depending on you as a page. And that begins today."

Lord Lenato put her down, shaking his head. "I shall be at the courts of the king but I will be checking up on you, little one."

Nealan wondered if Lenato called everyone little. The dark-skinned man was intimidating even in comparison to their tallest knights. He wore noble's clothes, dressed mostly in black. The Latin Kingdom of Belza was known for its liking in the color. Darkness usually meant evil to most men, but to Belzarians, it was a thing of beauty. "Princess Zenevieva?"

The proud girl turned towards Nealan, batting her pretty eyes, "Yes?"

Sir Owen let out a huge bout of laughter and continued thereafter when the Princess wrinkled her nose in further annoyance before turning back to look at Neal.

Neal did his best to keep the smile out of his eyes, "Do you know where to go?"

Lord Wyldon interrupted quickly, "Come Princess. You must learn there is no favoritism behind these walls. All princes, princesses and men are treated in an equal manner. You will not address elders with such brusque fashion. Get moving, page."

Vieva opened her mouth to argue before she was met with Lenato's dark eyes. She frowned then, bowing instead of curtsying as she followed after Lord Wyldon.

Neal smirked, "I'm glad Lord Wyldon decided to come back to train this one."

Raoul chuckled in response, "That's the girliest page I've ever seen."

Damian frowned, "Let us get back to our work. Let Lord Wyldon attend to her. That is the least of our worries."

Gareth the Younger looked curiously at the young Knight. He had been squire to Paxton of Nond, the old knight-master of the deceased Joren of Stone Mountain. His seriousness never wavered, his duties never less then perfect. He wondered if the good knight would ever loosen up.

Raoul had won the bet earlier that summer. They'd never think so.


	2. Royal Joke

Vieva poked her head into her room. It was very plain in comparison to her grand bedroom back home in Belza. She didn't mind, it had a bed, it had a closet and a beautiful window that over-looked the palace gardens. She looked back at the closet wondering how they had fit any of her clothes in there. She remembered having brought at least five bundles. Vieva marched forwards, tugging the closet open. Her eyes bulged. Half her clothes were gone. All that was left was her practice clothes, breeches, armor, gloves, battle-garb and seven dresses! She turned to look down and find all her boots. She sighed in relief she couldn't much live without her boots. She felt naked though, looking down at the dress she currently adorned. She loved the intricacies of the gowns that she could ruin after a party. She supposed Lord Wyldon wouldn't be interested in the many gowns she had enjoyed.

Vieva sighed. She had to make sacrifices. At least she didn't have to hide her sexuality as the Lioness, Alanna had. She also didn't need to cut her hair short as Lady Keladry of Mindelan had. However, she had to fight as well as them to be able to stay here.

"So you're _the girl_ this time around," a tall blonde lazily quipped, leaning against her doorframe. Vieva turned to look at the page whom she would come to know as Thomas.

She nodded, "Yes. And you are?"

An arm slunk over Thomas's shoulder, smirking at her, "Royal blood. They're really trying to make sure you don't kicked out, ey?"

The academy was also well-known for having those who were a lot friendlier then others. Vieva frowned slightly before bowing to both of them, "May I please ask you both your names."

"Polite one, isn't she?" The blond responded, smiling at her.

The other couldn't help his snickering, "Kind of like a beanpole with fat hanging on the sides-"

Vieva's eyes widened, looking down at her breeches, she growled. "Never mind! If I am to take insults from commoners-"

"Aha," Thomas responded, grinning, "We're but humble nobles in your midst milady."

"In a few years, I shall be Sir Alexander the Younger-"

"You're Gareth's younger brother?" Vieva almost yelled in disbelief. She had remembered Gareth of Naxen to be much nicer and more polite then this imbecile was.

Alexander smirked, "Bad blood runs in every family, poor old Gareth."

Vieva turned to look at the blonde, "I hope you can give your family hope, then?"

Thomas chuckled. He looked almost like an angel. He stood only about five-foot one, but he had the most beautiful wolf-like blue eyes. They were piercing, but he had wrinkles on the sides of his eyes which meant he must've laughed a lot. "Thomas of Vervelos, first born, no old blood mingling around here."

Vieva huffed, "Alright, good to meet you. Zenevieva of Belza-"

"Belza?" Another head poked into her room. Vieva's irritation was growing. First she wanted to hunt for her missing clothes, secondly she wanted to check on her horses and thirdly, she wanted to take a bath. He looked much like the people in her country though, Vieva suddenly stared at him curiously. He grinned, "Howard of Galla."

He wasn't a neighbor after all, she nodded, bowing once more and introduced herself.

"Ah yes, my father and I were at Belza two years ago, it's a very lovely country. It's a little small and filled with horses- yes, horses, you're very famous for horses, are you not?"

Vieva's curiosity fell. She was about ready now to shoo all the pages out when she saw a maid-servant trying to squeeze between them to get in. "Now who in Mithros are you?"

"No need to swear now miss," the grumpy girl responded, shaking her head. "Just been assigned to you is all-" she looked at the boys, "Shoo! You always causing trouble Alexander, shoo!"

Vieva noted this one was a bit high strung, "But Lord Lenato-"

"You want Lord Lenato fixing your breeches and handin' you your soap there miss?"

"_Princess_, now, Ophelia," Alexander tutted, winking at the annoyed maid before he and the rest of the boys made their way out.

Thomas chuckled, "See you later Belza."

Was everyone so rude in this palace? Vieva wondered. She felt a loud tutting noise much like the one Alexander made as the maid tugged at her breeches. She blinked. Oh they were rude alright, "What are you doing?"

"These are quite pretty, you're royal blood then, ey?"

_Obviously_, she wanted to scream. She kept the thought to herself. The help was very happy around her, Vieva wasn't known for being spoiled in the sense of being mean. She didn't mind the help calling her by her nickname, she didn't mind them scolding her – but a complete stranger? A maid nonetheless? One who wasn't even from her home? "Yes," she tried moving away from her, "Must you always be in my room?"

Ophelia made a face, "None of the like. Didn't you bring a maid of your own?"

"I think maybe I should have," Vieva muttered, she nodded instead. "I'll go tell Lord Lenato to fetch Gloris-"

"You have names like Gloris?" Again, openly the maid made a face. "You know, every since they upped the rights to us commoners in the palace, I would've hoped they would allow us better names, ya know-"

A knock on her open door pulled Vieva from her thoughts of killing the maid. She turned to look and almost fell over, an older page smiled at her. He had brown hair and dark lashes, "Justice of Leandry, just wanting to make your acquaintance, Princess Zenevieva."

He walked away as soon as she blinked. He jaw dropped before the loud tutting of her maid interrupted her once again.

"Watch that one, he knows you've got gold in your pocket-"She was holding the newly changed linens in her arms. "Word of advice miss, remember you are a girl but always remember you have just given yourself to the rule of a man's world. No one's going to be fair. No one wants to be beaten by the likes of us," Ophelia grinned, showing her somewhat gapped teeth, "But we got smarts, oh yes miss, that we do!" She walked off babbling about why women were more dominant.

Vieva slammed her door, her nose wrinkling in annoyance. She looked at her clothes and wondered as she pulled out a beautifully embroidered tunic, why was she complaining if she was allowed to be in breeches every day of her life?

She grinned then, suddenly realizing she was going to be left mostly on her own. Pulling on her tunic, Vieva practically skipped towards what she hoped was the correct direction towards mess-hall.


	3. The Sponsor

Vieva hadn't realized that there was a need for a sponsor as she was stopped in the middle of the hall by their training master, Lord Wyldon. She could feel his dislike for her as soon as his eyes moved in her direction. He explained the need for a sponsor curtly before barking at the other boys. Vieva kept the frown to herself, but her eyes showed her dislike in return. She was told to stay still, to stand and wait until some older page decided that he would choose her. Frankly, she didn't care who chose her as long as she would get to start training. Vieva was curious about the lessons and had only a slight idea of what to expect on her first day.

The first day grew longer when no one had wanted to choose her, or at least no one that Lord Wyldon seemed to be allowing. Vieva finally gave into her frown once one boy was finally allowed to approach her. His eyes sparkled as he looked down at her, "Lord Wyldon, I think you should allow me to take this one under my wing. She looks a little lost, a little tired, maybe?"

Vieva tilted her head up slightly to look at the dark-haired page. He grinned down at her now as soon as Lord Wyldon let out a gruff of approval. Her frown worsened, "Who are you?"

"Liam of Conte," he responded. "We shall keep ourselves on a first name basis, and you as my sponsored page shall follow me to the dining-hall."

Vieva's stomach lurched. Her father was trying to keep an eye on her. She looked around and realized why no one else had decided to sponsor her. She was a girl, first off, secondly, she was a princess. Vieva stared at Liam's back with annoyance. Her father wasn't leaving her alone after all. She didn't mind Lenato being there but to have the King's son watch over her? It was embarrassing. She didn't want his pity, she was willing to fight through any emotions she was going to be feeling once the separation from her family began to sink in. However, she didn't intend to do it with a royal baby-sitter. She couldn't hold the irritation any longer as she tapped Liam's back.

Liam turned around, his eyes were still dancing with amusement. "Yes, milady?"

Her frown was a full-blown scowl. "Look, you don't have to sponsor me if either my father or your father put you up to this. You may sit where you want, you may ignore me all you want, however, if I ask you a question that pertains to the structure or the way things work, then you should answer. Don't feel obliged to me just because I am a princess. Also, I don't expect special treatment."

Liam had his hands clasped behind his back, a full smile, in contrary to his brother, Roald's usual cool demeanor, Liam felt more open to show his emotions of joy and interest. "Zenevieva-"

"Vieva," she corrected quickly before he continued speaking.

"I have been asked to look after you," he put his hand up quickly to stop Vieva from interrupting him once more. "But, I do not have the intention of being unfair to the other pages. I will not follow you like a dog, if that's what you're expecting. There is, as Lord Wyldon said, no favoritism. In fact, the complete opposite so I am here to maintain that fairness as best as I can. Now, come, sit with me and eat."

The other pages watched her follow the Prince. She felt a mix of smirks, frowns and angry responses as she took her seat. She looked at the table where she sat and found herself surrounded by the boys that had been at her door earlier.

"Hello little one," Alexander greeted, snickering. He had heard about the encounter that his brother had with the Princess's bodyguard, Lenato earlier, Vieva decided. "I see you've got Liam's protection on your dear father's orders? So quick to doubt our intentions? You scared?"

Liam smiled to himself, plopping down more casually next to Thomas. He nodded politely at the other boys who sat at their table, each one regarding him with either a nod back or a wide smile. Vieva wondered if they actually liked him for who he was or what he was. She would soon find out, she decided before turning her attention to the only person who was addressing her. "I'm not frightened and Prince Liam will not need to protect me. Hence, it would invalidate the reason why I am here in the first place. I am here to be a knight."

Loud scoffs and coughs flooded the room then.

Vieva growled slightly, turning around at the boy who burst out laughing. "Must you all be so rude, I will not-"

Liam had grabbed her arm by now, pulling her roughly so that she was facing him again. He frowned. "Watch your mouth, Princess."

"Vieva," she grimaced slightly, covering it up quickly with her lips reverting back to a thin line. "I don't have any intention of watching my mouth, _Liam_. I'm not a coward."

"You aren't but if you want fair treatment, you might be getting more then you asked for." He responded in a low tone. Everyone at their table pretended not to hear a thing that Liam was saying. "You say you don't want my protection, but if you're looking for a fight just to be like the Lady Knight, Keladry, let me tell you, she's five foot eleven and no princess."

Vieva was shocked at Liam's bitterness towards the subject. It never occurred to her that Liam might not even have any intention of fulfilling what his father asked of him. He was probably putting up a front in front of Lord Wyldon. Her idea that he was as calm and cool as most monarchs were was an idea that was fast dying with the continued grip on her arm. She pulled her arm away just as roughly, her eyes narrowing at him. "I think I can find my own way around this castle. Stop doing it if you don't want to," she hissed.

Alexander had to give it to her as he glanced momentarily at Liam's face. She might've had the wrong idea about the Prince if she was going to be referring to King Jonathan and Prince Roald's dispositions. Liam was a good friend, Alexander knew that, but he was nothing like the rest of his family. The prince's face returned to being emotionless. Alexander chose to interrupt, whether it be to save his friend from losing his temper or from his own need to protect the clueless girl from making a mistake of trying to create an enemy out of the King's son. "You still didn't answer my question, Vieva." Alexander smiled, "Are you scared?"

Lord Wyldon's appearance at the hall stopped Vieva from throwing her plate in Alexander's face. The training master walked up towards the lectran, clasping his hands together he began in prayer. "To Mithros, god of warriors and truth, and to the Great Mother Goddess, we give thanks for their bounty," he said.

"We give thanks and praise," the audience murmured in response.

"We ask the guidance of Mithros in whatever new challenges face us. However difficult it may be, let not our pride or our mouths curb our better judgment. May the god's light show us a path of victory and success in these trying times of war. We ask this of Mithros, god of the sun."

"So mote it be," again in chorus the pages and visiting squires intoned.

Wyldon sat back down, which brought the loud chatter back up a notch.

Thomas chuckled, "Vieva, you must be worrying the Stump already if he's praying for you."

Vieva was just about to put a spoonful of soup in her mouth before she stopped to glance at Thomas quizzically, "He did?"

"'Let not our pride or our mouths curb or better judgment,'" a first-year page with red hair chirped. He grinned, leaning slightly to show her his face. "Terrance of Whistlepond."

Justice, the boy who had introduced himself earlier walked past Vieva with a group of his second-year mates. He flashed her a grin before heading to the opposite side of the room to sit down. Vieva looked after him blankly before finding another boy with a blank expression looking back at her. He turned back to his friends and began whispering and looking back at her again before lending her a smile.

"When you decide you've had enough of trying to be a knight you can go marry him," another blonde boy Vieva hadn't met before commented before squeezing in next to her. He flashed her a smile. He was tiny and skinny, but his face was the prettiest boy's face Vieva had ever seen. The comment gave this pretty boy a scowl in response though.

"I'm going to become a knight," she retorted, gripping her knife tightly.

Alexander grinned, "Training doesn't start till day after tomorrow, page."

Vieva was about to open her mouth until she realized that Alexander hadn't referred to her as a princess. She smiled at him instead before returning to her food and ignoring the new first-year who sat next to her.

"Nickolai," Liam turned to look at him. "Your father won't be too happy about the idea that you're trying to irritate another year-mate."

"But she's a _girl_," Nickolai muttered, rolling his eyes as he ate.

"You look more like one then I do," Vieva grumbled before she felt an elbow in her ribs. She gasped as her long hair fell into her gravy. She gritted her teeth before stomping on Nickolai's foot under the table. The banter between them continued all throughout the meal. Everyone ignored the shaking of the table, continuing as if nothing was out of the ordinary due to being under Lord Wyldon's watchful eye.


End file.
